


fate is not just whose cooking smells good but which way the wind blows

by angrytourist



Series: complex anatomy [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Cannibalism, Gen, Gore, M/M, Pre-Slash, if i actually need to warn for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2104956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrytourist/pseuds/angrytourist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[au from mid-chapter 2] Kaneki meets Tsukiyama before Touka. No one is better for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fate is not just whose cooking smells good but which way the wind blows

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ani Difranco's "Slide".

The smell drew him in. Kaneki's stomach rumbled, and the girl seated next to him startled, her phone hitting the floor with an angry _clack._ He stood and hurried to the door before the train could depart.

The taste of bile and soured food from Big Girl’s sat heavy on his tongue, but that _smell_ \- 

Saliva dribbled down Kaneki’s chin. People crossed the street to avoid him, but any awareness of his surroundings had long since faded. 

Later, Kaneki would recall feeling like he was underwater, like someone - some _thing_ \- else controlled his body. But he came to with some kind of half-eaten grilled meat on a stick clutched in one sweaty fist and finely dressed man staring blankly at him. They were in a park, seated on a bench, their knees angled toward each other like it was some kind of date.

Shit. _Shit._

“I’m--I just--” Kaneki stammered nonsensically, coming up empty-handed in his desperate search for an excuse for _stealing food from some random guy,_ oh fuck--

The man raised a hand, cutting him off. “Do you like it?” It was such a non sequitur for the absolutely most mortifying moment of Kaneki’s life that all he could do was nod dumbly. “You have excellent taste,” his companion offered, distracted. He stared at a point above Kaneki’s shoulder. Probably because he was looking for a police officer.

Kaneki looked at the remainder of the skewer, then back to the man. In for a penny, in for a pound, he figured, and stuffed the rest of it in his mouth. 

The man continued watching him with an almost pleasant smile, like half-crazed college students stole his food from under his nose all the time. 

“Thanksforthefood,” Kaneki squeaked out, because he was nothing if not polite, before jumping to his feet and running full speed the hell away.

xxx

Kaneki kicked his door shut behind him and threw his bag to the side, distracted.

He’d eaten. And it tasted _so good._

Relief tore through him, nearly palpable. He ate, so he couldn’t be a ghoul. He was a human. Of _course_ he was a human.

“I’m human.” The more he said it, the better it felt. But some insidious voice spoke up in the back of his mind, _if you’re so human, then have a bite of something else,_ and, well, that wasn’t logic he could argue with.

Big Girl’s was just a fluke. It was all some weird, huge, horrific misunderstanding, and maybe he’d hallucinated the whole thing with Rize because _seriously?_ How would the doctor miss that she was-- what she was. That he didn’t eat for two weeks, that everything was so clearly wrong.

Confident, Kaneki pulled a chocolate bar - courtesy one of Hide’s many care packages - and promptly crammed it into his mouth.

He was in front of the kitchen sink within seconds. 

xxx

So maybe Rize had been a ghoul. Maybe he was as well. Maybe he’d just lost his mind and everything that happened was just another bullet point on the list of _reasons Kaneki Ken is Not All Right._

Sleeping on the kitchen floor with vomit drying on his face certainly wasn’t going to get him any answers, but he’d done it anyway. He dreamed about Rize offering him her organs on skewers, about looking in the mirror and seeing a giant insect staring back. He woke up exhausted.

 _You missed class ):_ was the first of a series of texts he’d received from Hide while he’d been...incapacitated. Having a psychotic break.

Hopefully.

He wanted to tell Hide it wouldn’t happen again, that he’d be back in no time, but his thumb hovered over the keyboard, frozen with uncertainty. Maybe next time, he decided. He’d get back to Hide later. First, he needed to _think._ He might not have been able to eat anything else, but whatever he’d gotten from that guy hadn’t tasted like raw sewage. It was the first thing since waking up in the hospital that hadn’t turned his stomach, excepting human flesh.

And he wasn’t planning on eating humans.

The trouble, of course, was that Kaneki had no idea who that guy was or where the food came from. Was it from a street vendor? Did he make it himself? It begged the question whether there was a certain way of preparing food that could still be appetizing to someone with a ghoul’s body if that was, indeed, what was happening to him. 

His phone buzzed again. Kaneki glanced at the screen, cringed at Hide’s name, and quickly pocketed it. 

He’d call Hide once he’d figured out what was happening to him and not a second before. For Hide’s sake.

xxx

Saying he needed to find the guy from the day before was easy in theory, but Kaneki could barely remember his face. He remembered well enough how the guy was dressed, so probably someone with money? And he’d definitely been a _he._ But he’d been so hungry, it was hard to remember anything beyond the desperate haze he’d been trapped in and the taste of that meat. His stomach rumbled just thinking about it. 

What was he supposed to do? Wander around until he saw the guy? Kaneki remembered getting off the train early by a stop or two, so there wasn’t anything to do but get off at one of those stops and start looking. 

He wasted a few hours at the first stop, walking around with his nose out like a dog. When the stares directed at him shifted from bewildered and uncomfortable to hostile, he made the executive decision to try the second stop. 

A little subtlety wouldn’t hurt, he figured, resigning himself to not finding anything there. 

Raking a hand through his hair in frustration, Kaneki stepped off the train and looked around. Nothing looked especially familiar. There wasn’t any glowing arrow telling him where to go, and no sudden epiphanies about his path from the previous day were striking him.

“Stupid,” he muttered, kicking dejectedly at the ground. 

This was life, not a novel. He wasn’t some tragic protagonist searching for salvation. He was just one of seven billion, a guy with poor luck and poorer taste in women.

With a sharp shake of his head, Kaneki pulled himself back to the present. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself. 

Instead, he thought of Hide, about his best friend finding out he was a monster. He tried to picture Hide’s expression, going from sunny to terrified . Remember that, he thought as the imaginary Hide fled in horror. _If you screw this up, that’s what’s going to happen. Or worse._

Resolved to complete his task, Kaneki walked on.

Useless, everything, all of his efforts. Kaneki could barely remember anything about the guy he’d nearly assaulted beyond that he’d been eating something delicious. There was _no way_ he’d find him.

He sat down outside the train station, despondent. Above his head, a street light flickered, moths hovering close and casting shadows on the street.

It felt late, but Kaneki couldn’t say for sure what time it was. He’d felt his phone vibrate in his pocket periodically through the day, but guilt kept him from doing so much as glancing at the screen - not that he needed to. No one ever called him but Hide.

Before he could work up the nerve to pull out his phone, a hand fell heavy on his shoulder. “You’re looking better today!”

Kaneki startled so violently he fell off the bench and hit the sidewalk with a painful _thud._ “Who--who are--”

The man was clearly a few years older and dressed in the most bizarre blazer Kaneki had ever seen, complete with purple and red checkers, obviously meant to match with his hair. 

_So tacky!_

“Um, do I,” Kaneki bit his lip, looking helplessly at the man. “Do I know you?”

Looking almost insulted - which, _what_? - he cleared his throat. “You appropriated my lunch yesterday,” the man pointed out helpfully.

Kaneki’s stomach bottomed out. “Oh.” His voice was small. Somehow, finding him was just as bad as not finding him. 

Before he could interrupt Kaneki - and honestly, Kaneki didn’t want to hear whatever he was going to say - he barreled on, “I’m sorry I did… what I did! I just,” he stumbled his words, flustered, “really liked it. Uh, the food. I was wondering where you got it.”

“Tsukiyama Shuu,” the man offered unexpectedly, a pleased smile curling over his lips. “And I made it.”

“I, well, is that so?”

“You’re new here,” Tsukiyama said, “aren’t you?”

Flummoxed, Kaneki nodded. “Yeah, I don’t normally get off at this stop.”

Tsukiyama’s eyes flickered over Kaneki, leaving him with the distinct impression he was found wanting. “You want to learn?”

“Learn?”

“To cook, of course! To create something _exquisite_!”

Great, the guy was some weird foodie. Well, that could work in Kaneki’s favor. “Yes,” he said quickly. “That’s exactly right. I--well, it smelled so good, and I, um, actually was looking for you!”

“I am a chef of sorts,” Tsukiyama allowed, preening. “So you’ve heard of me?”

That… wasn’t really what he meant, but whatever. “Of course!”

“And after I was feeling so unappreciated,” Tsukiyama said. “You remind me, somehow… What was your name?”

He hadn’t offered it, but there was no harm in giving it now. “Kaneki Ken.”

“No relation,” Tsukiyama announced, satisfied. Whatever the hell that meant. “Excellent. Give me your number. I’ll send you the address. Be there tomorrow night, six sharp. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Kaneki fumbled out his phone, dutifully punching in the numbers Tsukiyama recited and sending a text. He felt oddly like he’d walked in at the end of a joke and misunderstood the punchline.

An address popped up in his messages. “I’ll see you then, Kaneki-kun.” Tsukiyama wasted no time in leaving. _Talk about mixed signals._

That everything went so smoothly unnerved Kaneki. Was that really it? He’d learn how Tsukiyama cooked, and then he’d be able to eat like a human again? It seemed too easy, impossibly so.

But considering the alternative, he wasn’t willing to question it.

xxx

He spent his time until he had to leave the next evening obsessively googling directions to the house and resisting the urge to text Tsukiyama requiring clarification about whether or not he said six. He had, of course, but Kaneki was a worrier born and bred. His mother had died from it, and in his more morbid moments - as of late, there were many - he suspected he would go the same way.

When it was finally time to leave, he had to dodge Hide, who was just showing up at his building. That cost him fifteen minutes, so he showed up late. A note was stuck to the door of a large house, one that seemed out of place in one of the more urban parts of the 20th ward. 

_Come in. Make yourself at home._

Fair enough, Kaneki figured. Tsukiyama probably already started. He opened the door and stepped inside, feeling that for once things were turning around for him.

That, of course, was when everything went to Hell.

A girl stood in the hall immediately adjacent to the entryway wrapped in a towel, her hair wet from bathing. Her cheeks reddened, but she smiled at Kaneki anyway, eyes glazed over.

Kaneki’s face was on fire. He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, but by the time he backed into the kitchen - lucky guess - he realized the girl was following him.

“You’re late, Kaneki-kun.” Tsukiyama leaned against the counter, a white apron tied neatly at his back, covering him from knee to neck. “Hurry, hurry, sit! Is that what you wear for fine-dining?” He clicked his tongue. “Never you mind, we’ll deal with that later...Ah, my dear, hurry now,” he gestured to the girl. “You’ll chill!” He didn’t seem surprised that she was nearly naked in his kitchen. He didn’t seem surprised by _anything,_ Kaneki realized, whether having his food stolen by a drooling stranger or anything else. That should make Tsukiyama cool or something, but instead Kaneki’s hair stood on end.

“What’s going on?” Wrong, something was definitely wrong. Kaneki couldn’t fight off the urge to put himself between Tsukiyama and the girl, nausea spiraling in his gut. 

“I was so,” Tsukiyama paused, searching for a word, “honored to meet you, Kaneki-kun. Someone who appreciated my craft.” Tsukiyama smiled, cat-like. “It’s only right that I allow you the full experience rather than the end product. Mademoiselle, if you will?” He gestured to the table. Smiling, her eyes vacant, she dropped the towel and hopped up on the table. Tsukiyama stepped forward, placing a warm palm on her naked stomach. “And relax,” he said, taking a deep breath. The girl copied him, still smiling.

Then Tsukiyama’s hand shifted and neatly slid through her abdomen.

Kaneki went rigid. He couldn’t even gag at the sight of Tsukiyama’s hand rummaging about inside the girl’s gut, couldn’t react to the fact that she was _alive and conscious_ , convulsing with pain.

He just… froze.

He couldn’t find it in himself to jump forward like he should, to try and save her, to do _something_ , because the smell - it was the same. Delicious, warm, floating in the air just like the stew his mother used to make, like the happiest of his memories. He _wanted._

“...have to be exceptionally gentle when handling the organs. If something were to rupture, it would be terrible! A perfect specimen like this shouldn’t be ruined by brutal handling.” A laugh. Tsukiyama was narrating like this as his own personal cooking show and that girl was nothing more than a slaughtered pig. His eyes were dark, the faint hint of red barely visible under the shade of his bangs.

He pulled something out of the girl, placing it lightly on a plate, and the girl went limp, like a puppet with its strings cut.

Predictably, that was when Kaneki returned to his senses.

“What the hell are you _doing_?” Though he tried to sound strong, intimidating, his voice came out like a gasp. He had no power, not with Tsukiyama looking so at home with a dead body on his table, not with that casual display of strength and cruelty. 

Tsukiyama stepped back from the girl. “What you asked for.”

Realization slammed into him, knocking the breath from his lungs. “The meat skewers,” he whispered. “Human?”

“You were expecting otherwise?” Tsukiyama looked pleasant enough, but his smile had begun to unhinge. 

“A ghoul.” Kaneki wanted to laugh or cry or scream, _something_ , but his fear was a heavy weight, anchoring him where he stood and freezing him to the core. 

“I’ll admit, you don’t smell as expected, but a ghoul is a ghoul.” Tsukiyama shrugged, shaking the blood off his hand. Then he froze, looking at Kaneki as though he was seeing him for the first time. “One eye?” He sounded dazed. “I didn’t notice before, but--yes, there it is.”

Kaneki’s hand flew up, palm digging into the affected eye. “I’m not a ghoul,” he said, finding his voice. Every step back he took, Tsukiyama advanced. “I’m not like you!”

“Oh really?” His eyes gleamed, trapping Kaneki. “Then what, pray tell, would you be?”

“It was--I’m human! That doctor--he made a mistake! It was a _mistake _!” _Get out, get out, GET OUT--___

__Tsukiyama stopped altogether then, fixing Kaneki with an unreadable stare. “Is that so?” was all he had to offer, like Kaneki wasn’t practically climbing up the walls trying to escape. “You poor thing! No wonder you were so hungry!” He spoke like he _knew,_ which wasn’t possible. He couldn’t understand, couldn’t even come close--_ _

__Somehow, Tsukiyama was behind him, pushing him forward with gentle hands on his shoulders, murmuring in his ear, “Poor, poor thing, your teeth are chattering, how awful,” in a soothing tone, but Kaneki couldn’t be soothed, he couldn’t be saved, nothing could help._ _

__He was a ghoul. He was a _ghoul_ , and he was _so hungry.__ _

__As if reading his mind, Tsukiyama crowded him against the table and ripped a chunk out of the girl’s gut before saying with a wicked smile, “We’ll have time for presentation later,” and pressing the meat to Kaneki’s mouth._ _

__He swallowed it down before the horror could really kick in, before he could protest his humanity. Having a sample of human the first time had only made it worse, knowing how good it would be, the way the meat could melt on his tongue, better than anything he’d ever had before. He started eating and couldn’t stop, his lips meeting Tsukiyama’s hand every time until his stomach protested._ _

__Then, and only then, did his mind catch up, and with it, all that was left of Kaneki’s humanness._ _

__“No,” he said, numb at first but the horror growing. “ _No_!”_ _

__“Was it not to your liking?” Tsukiyama murmured into his ear, his face entirely too close. “She was a nearly perfect specimen. I watched for weeks.” Something wet moved against his cheek._ _

__Tsukiyama was--he was _licking_ him, lapping up the blood and the tiny chunks of fascia still clinging to his mouth, his chin. _ _

__“GET AWAY FROM ME,” Kaneki roared, louder than he could ever remember being. He shoved Tsukiyama as hard as he could, rage and shame and fear melting into an overpowering sensation that left him somewhere between wanting to die and wanting to kill. “I’m not like you,” he spit, stumbling out of the room. Human, he was human, he could still be human--_ _

__“Don’t kid yourself, Kaneki-kun,” _how did he get so close_ , “you and I are two of a kind.”_ _

__Kaneki shoved him away again, heard something that must have been glass shattering, and ran._ _

__He didn’t look back._ _

__xxx_ _

__Kaneki couldn’t remember how he got home. He didn’t want to remember, couldn’t bring himself close to thinking about what had happened. All he knew was that he came to in the shower, cold water pouring over his body and not a trace of blood on him. _Shock_ , his mind helpfully supplied. _You’re in shock.__ _

__He needed a distraction._ _

__Hide could help. Without even trying, Hide would be able to help, could fix this. Kaneki stumbled out of the shower, water hitting the floor. He didn’t bother turning anything off, just stumbled wildly around his apartment in search of his phone, _where the hell did I put it_ \--_ _

__His clothes, soaked in blood, were by the door. His phone was still in his pocket. He ripped it out and blindly opened his most recent text, waiting for Hide’s words to soothe him like always._ _

___Kaneki-kun, I think we can help each other. Let me know when you’ve come to your senses._ _ _

__Tsukiyama._ _

__Kaneki didn’t manage to make it to the kitchen this time before he vomited._ _


End file.
